


And Nobody Wears A Crown

by coffeejunkii



Category: Merlin (BBC) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-13
Updated: 2009-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-02 15:15:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeejunkii/pseuds/coffeejunkii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about a summer in France, in which Bradley finds himself intrigued by Irish names, Colin reads a lot, Angel and Katie are their usual innocent selves, and a few moments change everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Nobody Wears A Crown

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to everyone who has cheered me on, betaed, britpicked, and researched: aelora, bewarethesmirk, lost2mercy, and msdaccxx. The title is a line from the hidden track at the end of Kate Nash's "Merry Happy."

Bradley let the Wimbledon commentary wash over him. Fucking Andy Murray lost in the quarterfinals. Never mind that Nadal had been the clear favourite for the match. He nudged Colin's ankle with his foot. He needed distraction from Murray's complete incompetency. "So, who was your first shag, then?"

Colin looked up from the book he was reading. He didn't answer right away, apparently weighing Bradley's question for a moment. With a shrug of his shoulder, he replied, "Fiachra. And I was seventeen, because you were going to ask that next."

Bradley closed the top of his laptop. It dutifully went to sleep, shutting off the merciless live stream. "You know me so well. Was it good?"

"Well. Not bad enough not to have another go the next day." Colin's eyes were back on his novel.

Bradley made affirmative noises in response.

Colin marked his page. "What about you?"

"Bloody horrible. Had no sodding clue what I was doing. I'm just glad she didn't kick me out of the bed." Thinking back on it, he really didn't know why Anna had even talked to him after that. Unwilling to endure a more thorough questioning of events that better stayed deeply buried in his memories, he snagged Colin's book. "Let's see what's got you so intrigued. Marquez again?"

"Hey! Fuck sake! Give me that!" Colin tried to snatch the book back, but Bradley had already rolled off the bed, holding the novel above his head.

Colin lunged after him, with little success. The ensuing tussle continued for some time, and only came to an end when Angel stuck her head in the door--not even taking time to properly knock--asking if they wanted to go down to the bistro two streets over. Angel had enough tact not to comment on the headlock Bradley had on Colin and told them to be downstairs in five minutes.

Colin wiggled out from under Bradley's arm and finally got a hold of Love in the Time of Cholera. "We'll be there," he said to Angel, who left with a shake of her head and a muttered, "Boys!"

"That's actually not half bad," Bradley remarked with a nod at the book.

"You've read it?"

"No need to sound so surprised. I do read. On occasion." Bradley righted his T-shirt, which had ridden up his chest during their scuffle.

"I've never seen you with any written words that aren't a script."

"Maybe I prefer to read in private." Which was the truth; in contrast to Colin, who carried whatever book he was reading around on set at all times, Bradley didn't like the idea of other people watching him while he read.

Colin looked intrigued in a way he usually reserved for Tony's stories about London theatre in the seventies. An endless amount of questions were sure to follow, which Bradley aimed to avoid by heading for the door. "C'mon, let's go. I don't need to have Katie whinging at me again for not being on time."

Colin nodded, but the wheels had clearly been set in motion. Brilliant. He probably wouldn't stop until he'd heard about every book Bradley had ever read. Perhaps he'd finally be satisfied after hearing about the long and painful encounter with Encore Tricolore 2. Maybe.

~***~

Colin was trying to get all the crumbs out of Merlin's blasted scarf--why did digestives have to be so crumbly, anyway--when he saw Bradley storming towards the catering truck. Heading straight towards him.

"You!" Bradley pointed at Colin. "I need to talk to you." He rounded the truck, apparently expecting Colin to follow.

"Yes?"

Bradley whirled around. "Fiachra is a bloke's name! Katie told me."

Colin laughed. That hadn't taken long at all. "So?"

"Slightly important information you skipped over there!" Bradley looked a little flushed, probably from rushing over here right after having received that eye-opening bit of news from Katie.

"Well, you didn't ask if it was a fella or a girl."

"But! It was implied that--I just didn't expect--your first shag was a bloke?!"

Colin leaned against the side of the truck, enjoying this far too much. "Oh, sorry, mind-reading is not among my skills."

Bradley tugged on the chain mail he was wearing. "You really could have clarified that."

"Why? Does it bother you?" Colin didn't think it would, but if it did, it would be better to get that out into the open immediately.

Bradley looked perplexed. "Bother? No! It's just--just..." His hands grasped at air as if they might pluck the lacking words out of the sky.

Before Colin could dig deeper into Bradley's curious inability to form coherent speech, Mary was calling them back to the set.

~***~

Bradley slumped against the stone wall next to Colin, who was fumbling with his iPod. They'd been doing the same scene all day, and it took forever to arrange all the extras between takes. Everyone's patience was running out and Bradley predicted they were about ten minutes away from a spectacular meltdown on the director's part. Naturally, Colin looked as calm as ever, which was unacceptable.

"Braised Lamb again?" Bradley asked, trying to peek at the iPod screen.

"Huh?" Colin slipped his massive headphones off his head, leaving them to frame his neck.

"I asked if you were listening to Braised Lamb again." Bradley took care to enunciate every word clearly.

"It's Frightened Rabbit, which I've told you at least twenty times already."

A first sign of possible irritation? Bradley pressed on. "It's hard to keep all that wailing separate."

"They're an excellent band from Scotland, I'll have you know." Colin's thumb rubbed and tapped on the iPod.

"There was this bloke from Scotland on my football team. Ian." Bradley hadn't thought of him in years.

Colin sent him a confused look. "Is it 'The Life of Bradley James' story time again?"

Bradley smacked his arm. "Wanker. See if I tell you anything ever again."

"Oh, come off it. So now. Ian." Colin even shut off his iPod.

That seemed like a whole lot of attention on something Bradley had meant to casually slip into a conversation when Colin was only half-listening. "We, uh, might have mucked about a few times."

Colin's eyes widened. "I don't believe you! You've been giving me a hard time for a week about Fiachra, and now you're telling me you've had a go with your football mates?" His voice rose enough to make one of the extras look over at them.

"Would you shush?" Bradley shoved his shoulder for emphasis. "Mate. Singular. Not mates. S'not like we're talking bloody rugby, after all."

"Still! Especially after your 'oh, you could have clarified that, Colin' bit."

Bradley scratched a few splatters of dirt off Arthur's sword. "Well, now you know." He snuck a glance at Colin, who still looked dumbfounded. "It was one of those 'one thing leads to another' things."

"Is that a euphemism for 'we were so pissed off our arses that we had no idea what we were doing'?"

"No."

Colin gave him a disbelieving look.

"It wasn't!" Bloody hell, how long could it take to arrange twenty-five people around a table?

"Was he a good shag?"

In for a penny, in for a pound. "Technically, we didn't shag."

Colin frowned. "Technically? Either you did or you didn't. Rather straightforward, the whole thing."

Bradley craned his neck. There had to be someone looking for them to call them for their next take. But none of the plucky French PAs were in sight. "We--look, I'm far too sober to discuss this."

"I hear Katie and Angel are away off shopping for after we wrap today."

"When I said I was too sober, that wasn't a veiled invitation to get me hammered," Bradley protested.

Colin looked disappointed.

"However, if you felt inclined to restock our alcohol supply, I wouldn't object."

With a far too calculating smile, Colin replied, "I'll come round after dinner."

Bradley let his head fall back against the wall. He was doomed.

~***~

"Christ, this is vile." Bradley wrinkled his nose after taking a first sip of the drink Colin had made for him. "What the fuck is in this?"

Colin had to admit that it was a rather strange combination of flavours, but it wasn't vile. "Vodka, and.." He turned the bottle around to read the label. "Ginger Ale."

"You bought Ginger Ale as mixer? Are you out of your mind?"

"They only had Fanta, Coke, and this. Fanta's too sweet, and Coke is boring. So I thought we'd try something French."

Bradley pushed away his glass. "It's fucking rank. Why didn't you ring me from the shop? Or did you lose your mobile again?"

Colin tried the concoction again. Okay, perhaps it was vile. "Because! How could I know this was Ginger Ale? And tastes like shit?"

Bradley got off the bed and pulled on his trainers. "Because, Mr Je-parle-le-francais-perfectly, I'd have expected you to read the label before buying it! I'm going over to Katie's. I think she nicked a bottle of Coke from catering yesterday."

Colin stretched out on Bradley's bed. "Suit yourself." Secretly he was glad that he didn't have to continue to drink something that smelled like windshield fluid.

~***~

"Now explain this whole 'technically we didn't shag' business with your footie mate," Colin said after they'd each had a hefty vodka and Coke. A pleasant buzz was starting to spread through his body and he felt ready to extract a few hopefully filthy stories from Bradley's mind.

"Name's Ian." Bradley sat on the opposite end of the bed, a few pillows propped up against the brass bars.

"Okay, Ian."

Bradley drained the rest of his drink and held his glass out for more. "It was--almost like a dare. Like, how far are we going to go with this? We'd got off a few times before, and a snog here and there, which, again, not that unusual between team mates. So I thought, why the fuck not. I was curious."

Colin made agreeing noises while mixing another vodka and Coke. Heavy on the vodka, obviously. He handed it to Bradley and topped up his own glass.

Bradley gulped down a third of his drink before setting it down next to the bed.

There was a difference between drinking for courage and out of desperation, and Colin thought Bradley was veering rather close to the latter. "You don't need to tell me." It was one thing to get trashed and have a laugh about past flings, but quite another to reveal things in an drink-induced haze that you couldn't take back in the morning.

Bradley pointed at Colin. "Oh, you asked, and I'm telling you. Sordid details and all."

Colin leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "I didn't exactly ask."

"Oh no?" Bradley cleared his throat and, in an imitation of Colin's accent that wasn't half-bad, went on, "'Technically? Either you did or you didn't.' Your words."

"Well, you were confusing. As per usual."

"I'm not confusing."

Colin decided that Bradley was fine after all. "Okay, you are not confusing. Carry on."

"All right. So I was curious, and he was curious. It all went well at first, and then it--didn't work."

"Didn't work?" Colin repeated slowly.

Bradley studied the floral pattern on his sheets. "Yeah."

"I'm not following."

Bradley glanced at him. "Look, we wanted a shag. But we didn't really manage to, you know..." He was doing that thing with his hands again where he thought some waving around would probably magically convey the lacking words.

"Sorry, I don't speak Bradley's personal sign language," Colin teased.

"God, Colin, you can be really thick sometimes. Surely even you can imagine what it might mean if two blokes intend to shag and it doesn't work out!" Bradley sounded annoyed.

Maybe it was time to retreat from this conversation. Colin wished he'd known Bradley for longer than a few months; was his temper a sign of warning, a signal to back off, or was it okay to push him a bit more? Only one way to find out.

"What, d'you mean you couldn't get it up?" Colin asked, sticking to good-natured teasing.

"Christ. No, that's bloody not what I meant." Bradley stumbled off the bed, nearly knocking over the glass beside it. He kept talking as he walked over to the balcony doors. "Want me to spell it out? Fine. He couldn't get inside me. There. Happy now?" He tore open one of the doors. A burst of cool air streamed into the room. Leaning against the frame, Bradley added, "Fucking embarrassing, that was."

Shit. Shitshitshit. Colin had not expected that. Fuck, he really had no idea about the best way to proceed with Bradley now. He poured a shot of vodka into an empty glass and walked over to Bradley. He handed over the shot, which Bradley downed without hesitation. Colin looked out over the rooftops of Villers-Cotterêts, inky shadows against a dark sky.

When he felt Bradley relax against the door, he figured it would be safe enough to introduce words into the silence again. If Bradley had wanted to kick him out so he could be alone, he'd have already done so. "Did you trust him?" Colin asked quietly.

"What's that got to do with it?" Bradley murmured.

"Everything?"

Bradley looked at him in confusion.

Colin turned towards him, trying to keep his posture as open as possible. He'd a feeling that Bradley would continue to talk to him, but a misplaced word or gesture might make him bolt. "For the first time, at least. Maybe that was the problem."

"Maybe. He always had my back on the pitch, though. That should mean I trust him, doesn't it?"

Colin couldn't stop himself from saying, "Well, clearly, when he had you on your back--"

"Hey now. Who says I was on my back?"

That barely-there smile was reassuring. They were making their way back to much safer conversational territory. Colin turned further, his back against the bar separating the balcony doors. His elbow nearly brushed against Bradley's arm. He took it as a good sign that Bradley didn't move away. "Okay, so on your knees. Or whatever. Doesn't really matter. It was probably a tense situation even if you didn't think it was."

Bradley studied him. "You sound like you've got plenty of experience in that area."

"Maybe I do."

Bradley's eyebrows went up a fraction. "How many blokes have you shagged, exactly?"

Colin smiled. "A few." Maybe Bradley would feel better if he heard about some of his less-than-successful past encounters.

"You only shag blokes, then?" Bradley tried to sound casual, but it was easy to tell he was rather keen on the answer.

Colin held his gaze. "No. I'm open-minded."

"That's one way of putting it." Bradley looked out onto the balcony again.

"After Ian, you never thought about giving it another go? With someone else?"

Bradley stuffed his hands into the pockets of his shorts. "No. That was the most embarrassing experience of my life. Killed any curiosity I had."

Colin studied Bradley's profile. "That's too bad," he replied, not quite aware he'd said the words out loud.

Bradley studiously kept looking out over Villers-Cotterêts. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Colin knew that Bradley was aware he was being watched. "That you're missing out on some bloody fantastic sex."

Despite the low light in the room, it was easy to make out the flush on Bradley's cheeks. "If you say so."

"I do say so." Colin held his breath. In any other situation, Colin would have thought they were both testing the waters to see where this might possibly lead, but the last thing he wanted was to make Bradley feel uncomfortable again. He held himself still, waiting for a cue.

Bradley shifted from one foot to another. It was enough of a change in position for their shoulders to come to rest against one another. Colin didn't move away.

"Thanks," Bradley said.

"For?"

"For not giving me shit over what I told you."

Colin wanted to retort that he wouldn't do that, but considering most of their conversations so far had consisted of either planning pranks or trading insults, maybe Bradley hadn't expected anything different. "I wouldn't do that over something that's happened to me as well."

"It has?" Bradley sounded surprised.

"Sure. That's why I asked you if you trusted him. Because, it's a really a bit of a strange thing you're doing there, isn't it? Especially if you've never done it before. You've no idea how it's supposed to go or feel or what have you. It's this odd situation and if you're not entirely sure the other person won't cock it up--no pun intended--and, I'm rambling, amn't I?" Colin decided he'd finally arrived at the "spectacularly drunk" stage.

Bradley smiled at him. "It's fine."

Colin smiled back, feeling like a stupid sap for the tingling that rushed through him.

They lapsed into silence again, each looking around the room and somewhat pointedly not at one another. Neither of them moved away, however.

Eventually, Bradley shuffled away a bit while rubbing a hand over his face. "When are we getting picked up again tomorrow?"

"Um, seven, I think?"

Bradley walked over to the bed and picked up his mobile. "Ah, fuck, it's nearly three already." He let himself fall back onto the mattress. "I'm going to have a blinding headache. I can feel it brewing."

"I've some aspirin in my room. I'll bring it tomorrow morning, aye?" Colin hesitated by the bed for a moment before moving towards the door. "You might want to have some water before you go to sleep."

"Thanks, mum, I think I will."

"Arse." They were all right, Colin assured himself; there'd been a moment earlier when things could have become rather awkward, and he was relieved they'd managed to avoid that.

"Night," Bradley mumbled. He was still clutching his mobile and both of his feet were hanging off the bed, but Colin didn't think that could prevent him from being asleep within the next minute.

"Good night," he replied softly and left.

~***~

Colin's aspirin turned out to be a godsend. Otherwise, Bradley might never have survived the drive to the set. Why had he never noticed all these bumps in the road before? Even the music in the car was decent this morning. Thank god Katie had a later start or he'd be subjected to Kate Nash. Again. He'd seen Colin hook up his iPod to the car stereo when he arrived and braced himself for the worst, but whatever was playing was actually quite pleasant. Well, as pleasant as an accompaniment to a thousand little blacksmiths making swords in his head could be.

"Enjoying yourself?" Colin asked.

Bradley hoped that simply turning his head into the direction of Colin's voice would be enough of a prompt for elaborating on this 'enjoyment.' Didn't Colin see that he was dying over here?

"You were bobbing along to the music." Colin had the audacity to sound cheerful, the utter bastard.

"I wasn't." Was he? It was entirely possible that he was twitching involuntarily.

"You were."

Bradley ignored him for half a song. "What are we listening to?"

"The Divine Comedy. The best-of, to be specific."

"God, can you ever listen to something that doesn't have a weird name?" Bright light was shining into Bradley's eyes despite his sunglasses. He let his head loll against the back of the seat in the hope of finding some shade.

"And Coldplay isn't a weird name."

Bradley pushed his hand under his glasses, rubbing his eyes and temples. "At least it's not named after a book everyone only pretends to have read. Or after some animal. And why the fuck are you so bloody awake? You had as little sleep as me."

"Necked about a litre of water after I got back to my room. Besides, we didn't really drink that much."

Bradley groaned. Apparently, he should have listened to Colin's advice. He was never drinking with Colin again. He snorted. Right. Like that's a resolution he could stick to. "Have we any scenes together today?"

Rustling noises ensued, which probably meant that Colin was flipping through the call sheet. "Uh, no. I have a scene with Angel and then two with Richard. That's it. You've a few with Santiago."

Bradley straightened. "Santiago? What's he doing here again?"

"They wanted him to come in and shoot a few more scenes. Apparently he made quite an impression on Johnny in the dailies. Bloody loved him."

Something niggled at the back of Bradley's mind. "Yeah. That--right. God, they'll have us do twenty-five takes of the same fight." His desire to die, or at least crawl under a rock, was suddenly reinforced. All the bouncing and running around would make his head explode.

"At least he's not a total minger."

"Who, Santiago?"

Colin shrugged. "Well, yeah. He's pretty fit."

Bradley wished he could say that he hadn't noticed, but that would have been a blatant lie. "That he is."

Colin smirked at him.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Seriously, what?"

"Nothing." Colin's grin widened as he stared out the window.

Bradley ignored him for the rest of the drive.

~***~

Colin was on his way back from lunch when he spotted Bradley hunched over on a chair next to where they were filming another tournament scene. "Hey."

Bradley squinted up at him. "Hey."

"You look like shit." Colin sat down in the chair next to him.

"Oh, thanks."

"Didn't see you over at catering." Dust puffed up in small clouds when Colin dragged his shoes through the dirt.

"Didn't feel like throwing up all over Santiago. Costume's been giving me enough grief already. 'Don't lean against that dirty fence, Bradley!'. Inhuman pricks, the lot of them." Bradley's shoulders hunched even more than before. He rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes, but the motion didn't remove the fatigue lining them.

Without thinking about it, Colin brought his fingers up to Bradley's nape. He knew Bradley was in even worse shape than he was letting on, and this might help. For a brief moment, Bradley tensed, and Colin stilled, ready to let his hand slip away. But Bradley's head dropped forward, and Colin's fingertips felt their way up tight tendons, pressing lightly at first. Upon hearing affirmative noises, he pressed down with more force. His thumb sought the juncture of neck and shoulder, rubbing circles there until he could feel the knots loosen. Contented humming provided guidance, and soon Colin found himself kneading tight muscles with his entire hand. When most of the tension had disappeared, he couldn't resist seeking out the hair curling around the collar of the bright red jacket. The tips were damp from earlier exertions and twisted easily around his fingers. After one last tousle, he withdrew his hand.

"Thanks," Bradley mumbled.

"Welcome. Give me a shout later?"

Bradley rolled his head back and forth, probably working out some remaining kinks. "Might just go to bed."

Colin stood up. "Text me, then." He half-expected another 'mum'-comment from Bradley, but he just waved him off. Colin decided that meant he'd get a text later.

Halfway across the drawbridge, he looked back. Bradley had slung Arthur's sword over his shoulder and was jogging back over to where Santiago was talking to Ed. If anyone could tell Bradley was hung over, Colin would have been surprised. When Bradley smiled at something Santiago said--the kind of wide smile that echoed in his eyes--the tingling from the previous night was back, and Colin wondered if maybe, just maybe, he could convince Bradley to let that take them somewhere.

~***~

Bradley stumbled towards his room, half-asleep on his feet after an unexpected meeting about script changes that affected the next day's shooting schedule. He'd meant to be back at the hotel three hours prior, thought he might watch an episode of Heroes to unwind, and then go to bed early. Now it was already past eleven and he faced another night of too little sleep. Bradley had half a mind to knock on Colin's door to complain about the long meeting, but he was probably asleep by now.

The white envelope taped to his door made him pause. It said Bradley in Colin's handwriting. Bradley unlocked his door and kicked it shut with one foot, all the while shaking the envelope to get a clue about its contents. Something was rattling around in it.

It turned out to be a memory stick with mp3s on it. The Divine Comedy--A Secret History, it said on the note Colin had included. And, We listened to it this morning. Thought you might want a copy.

Bradley left the music on even after he'd turned off the light. A phantom touch of fingers swept over his nape and into his hair. He wondered what they might feel like if they roamed farther, unwinding muscles and sinews on their way. His stomach tightened, and if he'd been more awake, he might have been more concerned about how thoroughly Colin had imprinted himself on Bradley's life. But floating between wakefulness and sleep, only the prospect of seeing Colin the next day, and the day after, and the day after that, mattered.

~***~

Filming had been cancelled for the second day in a row due to torrential rain. They settled in Colin's room--he'd got the bigger bed, after all, and considering that was all there was to sit on, it made the decisive difference--and were watching Buffy. Bradley'd been talking his ear off about it ever since they met, with the success that Colin had finally agreed to be introduced to the allegedly best TV show ever made.

"And, see now, Dawn, she wasn't actually there before. She just appeared, but no one notices. They think she's always been Buffy's sister." Bradley sounded awed. "Think you've got it so far?"

Colin nodded dutifully.

"Season Five is when Buffy starts to get really good, so we'll start there. You can always ask me if there's something that's unclear."

"Will do." Colin settled himself back against the pillows and hoped he wouldn't fall asleep. The constant drum of rain against the windows had kept him in a daze all day.

As the episode progressed, Colin had to admit that it was funny to see Anthony as a slightly stuffy ex-librarian and magic shop owner. He could even picture how this might be an interesting show to watch, but he hadn't watched much TV in the past few years, and wasn't too pushed about it overall. Which was somewhat ironic, considering.

Colin became so absorbed in trying to process Anthony's acting choices and in figuring out the blocking in several scenes that he only noticed Bradley'd fallen asleep when the end credits came on. He gently jabbed his elbow into Bradley's side.

Startled, Bradley nearly fell off the bed. Colin really didn't want to laugh at that, but he couldn't help himself.

"Piss off," Bradley admonished, voice rough with sleep.

"How could you fall asleep during the best TV show in the world? I'm telling Anthony," Colin managed between laughs.

"It's the fucking rain." Bradley leaned over the side of the bed, probably in search of his mobile, which he'd tossed over that way earlier. "And you will not breathe a word to Tony about this. Besides, I've seen this episode at least three times before."

Muscles played under Bradley's worn grey T-shirt as he moved. Colin tracked their contraction and expansion with his eyes, and wondered what the movement might feel under the palm of his hand.

"What d'you think of the episode?" Bradley asked after he'd retrieved his mobile. His thumb flew over the keys.

"Not bad."

Bradley briefly looked up at him. "Told you. Buffy is genius."

"Absolutely." Colin picked up the video camera from the bedside table and switched it on.

It took Bradley about twenty seconds to realise he was being taped. "Oh, c'mon, not now. We're hardly doing something of interest, Colin."

"Oh, I don't know, I'm sure some people will be interested in seeing Bradley James in bed."

"In your bed, you mean."

Colin burst out laughing.

"Ah, fuck, turn that off, will you? Clearly I'm not fit for possible public consumption today." Bradley pushed the camera away from his face.

"I think you should leave it up to the adoring public to decide how fit you are." It was kind of difficult to keep the camera steady while laughing, Colin discovered.

Bradley took another swipe at the camera, but Colin grasped his wrist and pinned it to the bed. As Bradley's mobile was still in his other hand, he had to endure more filming. "Dear Merlin fans, may I present Bradley James in his natural habitat." He slowly panned over the laptop at the foot of the bed, a half-eaten packet of Hobnobs, the Buffy DVD set, and Bradley's naked feet.

"The rain's gone to your head. Barking mad, you are." Bradley submitted the keys on his mobile to another assault of rapid texting.

Colin zoomed in on Bradley's face. There was a frown of concentration forming between his brows, nearly obscured by a fringe that was a tad too long and threatened to fall into his eyes. Bradley had taken to continuously sweeping the offending strands away from his forehead, reaching a point where Jeremy had interrupted a scene because 'Arthur was fussing with his hair like an insecure thirteen year-old girl and this was not a direction in which they saw the crown prince heading, so would he please get a fucking haircut'. Bradley had been brooding for the rest of that day. He still hadn't got a haircut a week later, out of sheer stubbornness, Colin suspected.

"I know exactly what you're doing," Bradley said without taking his eyes off the mobile display. "I have excellent peripheral vision."

"Anything else you'd like to share?"

Bradley sighed. "Turn it off, will you?"

It was an earnest request. Colin put the camera aside and flopped onto his back. He glanced at City of Night on the bedside table and wondered if he could sneak in a few pages while Bradley was texting his life story to god-knew-who. Probably Angel. Right on cue, the mobile beeped, indicating the arrival of a new message.

"Katie's found out that Hancock's playing in a town twenty miles from here. In English, if you please. Fancy going?" Bradley asked.

Colin shrugged. "Aye, grand." Hancock wouldn't have been his first choice, but he was bored.

Bradley was bending over the side of the bed again in a quest for his socks or shoes or whatever, and this time, Colin couldn't resist reaching out.

"What are you doing?" Bradley asked while rooting around in the mess that covered the floor.

"I'm touching your back," Colin murmured, enthralled with the dips and rises under his fingers.

Bradley stood up and turned around to face Colin. "You. Are. Mad."

His eyes told another story entirely. Colin ignored him, smiling to himself as he tightened the laces on his trainers.

~***~

Bradley never discovered what Hancock was about. He tried to focus on Will Smith's superhero problems, but all his mind cared to explore was the memory of how solid Colin's hand had felt on his back.

~***~

The following week was hell.

All in all, they had lost three days to rain and hail, and were trying to make up for it as quickly as possible. Bradley barely saw Colin during the day, and at night, all of them headed straight to bed after arriving back at the hotel, exhausted from a long day of shooting and aware of more long days ahead. A few times, Bradley had managed to sneak into one of Colin's scenes, watching him from behind rows of equipment and extras. They'd exchanged a few words while eating hasty lunches and dinners, but it seemed as if they hadn't actually talked in ages.

At least they had Bastille Day off. Bradley went down to Art et Pizza with Colin, Katie, and Tony. During dinner, he traded amused glances with Katie about the salad Colin devoured. There was talk of going to a bar afterwards, but when Colin announced that he was knackered and would return to the hotel, Bradley decided to forgo alcohol in favour of Colin-time. They'd picked up a few bottles of beer on their way back, which they drank on the balcony behind their rooms.

Although conversations with Colin had been what Bradley had missed most the past week, they didn't talk very much. Colin shared one story about Glasgow involving a bat, an umbrella, and three cartons of milk, but other than that, they were quiet.

As the sun dipped behind the horizon and the breeze picked up, Bradley felt as if he was slowly uncurling, one twist undoing itself with each breath, the wooden floor warm underneath his feet and Colin a steadying presence at his side.

~***~

Colin had gone back to his room to pick up his black hoodie. When he stepped back onto the balcony, he stopped, taking in the way Bradley's hip jutted out as he was leaning forward over the wooden railing, elbows propped up on it and beer bottle dangling from his fingers.

A wave of want swept over him. It had been threatening to crest a few times, but Colin had pushed it down, uncertain about the time or place or Bradley's state of mind. But he was certain now.

A beam creaked under his shoes as he walked over to Bradley, who threw a glance and a thoughtful smile over his shoulder before turning back around. Colin stopped by his side, standing closer than he usually would, and took the beer bottle out of Bradley's hand. He carefully set the bottle down on the planks. Maybe it was the way Colin looked at him, but Bradley fell silent after a small noise of protest.

With one hand on Bradley's hip, Colin turned him around and nudged him back against the wooden railing. There would have been enough time for Bradley to speak up or move away, but he only gazed back at Colin, looking caught between wanting to brace himself and wanting to shout, finally.

It was only a brush of lips at first. Colin wanted to be sure that he hadn't mistaken the ease and comfort in the words, and, increasingly, in the touches between them. In the span of a breath, Bradley kissed him back. Colin sighed into his mouth, relief mingling with need. His hands curled more firmly around Bradley's hips, seeking out the bones that stood out so enticingly. Bradley knew what to do with his tongue, and teeth, and hands; with what little coherence Colin had left, he mapped out the possibilities of where else to apply these skills.

When the air had been kissed out of their lungs, they moved on to sensitive spots behind ears, near jaws, and across necks. Bradley in particular was insistent on pushing a hand under the edge of Colin's hoodie to lick along the exposed skin across his collar bones. Colin's hand twisted into Bradley's hair lest he stop. His head fall back, and he found himself looking up at the night sky. They must have switched places unbeknown to him. The wood against his back was digging into his skin, but it was only a passing flare of pain, blanketed by the pleasure rushing through him, head to toe and back again.

"So," Colin whispered into Bradley's ear, "think that the curiosity might come back?"

Bradley looked up at him, face flushed and hair disheveled. "Oh, it's back all right."

He kissed Colin again, pressing as close as possible to seek and push and take until the stars across the sky blurred into flashes behind Colin's eyelids.

 

~***~

"Morning, boys," Angel greeted them cheerfully as Bradley stumbled toward the van that would take them to the set, Colin right behind him.

Bradley grunted in response, feeling hung over even though he hadn't had anything to drink the night before.

"Oh my, aren't we grumpy this morning," Katie teased.

"He's not actually grumpy, he's just letting on," Colin explained.

Bradley didn't dignify either of them with a reply. He climbed into the backseat and slouched as far down as the seatbelt and his leg room would allow. Colin sat down next to him, naturally, because Katie and Angel's preternatural cheerfulness wasn't enough punishment already. He had no idea what to do about Colin aside from snogging him senseless at the next available opportunity. If that was welcome. Which Bradley wasn't sure about. And that had been the vicious circle of thoughts that had kept him up almost all night. Sure, they'd kissed, but what now?

"Can you skip to number nine, please?" Katie asked the driver from the middle row of seats she shared with Angel.

Please not Kate Nash, dear god, please, Bradley thought. But the first few chords dashed his hopes. "God, why," he muttered to himself.

Colin laughed, which earned him a hard slap to his arm.

"Turn it up a bit?" Angel asked. "I love this song."

Half a minute later the chorus came on and both Angel and Katie started singing along at the top of their lungs.

_I just want your kiss, boy  
Kiss, boy  
Kiss, boy  
I just want..._

Bradley didn't think it could get any worse, but, oh, how wrong he was because Colin started to mouth the words at him while pinning him with a gaze that could have melted glass. The really thick kind they used for bulletproof limousines and such.

"Stop that," Bradley hushed.

Colin never listened to anything he said, of course, so he actually started singing along, much to Katie and Angel's approval.

"That's the spirit!" Katie exclaimed.

Bradley could only think of last night, of Colin's lips against his own, of the firm grasp Colin had had on his hips. His jeans began to feel rather tight and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. As nothing ever escaped Colin's eagle eyes, there was a hand on Bradley's thigh a moment later. And Bradley could not move. At all. All he was capable of was holding Colin's gaze and praying that no one decided to look at the back seat. Colin's hand inched up higher and higher until his thumb could trace the grove between thigh and hip. Bradley's heart was racing and he was about thirty seconds away from really embarrassing himself, but he didn't care. All he wanted was for Colin to keep going, to keep looking at him as if the entire world had narrowed down to extracting waves of pleasure from a part of Bradley's body he'd never given much thought to before.

Obviously, this meant that Colin stopped.

A low whine escaped Bradley, to which Colin replied, "We're almost there."

Bradley looked out of the window, and indeed, the turrets of Pierrefonds were visible over the treetops. "Fuck," he breathed, trying to collect himself. He tugged his hoodie over his head and arranged it over his lap. There was no way he'd give Katie and Angel something to tease him with for the rest of his days.

"Sorry," Colin muttered.

Bradley glanced at him and saw uncertainty in his eyes. Too many words of reassurance swirled around in Bradley's mind and he couldn't fit them into the right order before the van stopped. They were immediately surrounded by people who started talking at them and moving in-between them. Colin was dragged off towards make-up and the production assistant pushed a new call sheet into Bradley's hands, firing questions at him. Fuck. He wanted just one minute with Colin, was that too much to ask? Apparently it was.

"Colin!" Bradley yelled. Colin turned back towards him, but kept walking. "Lunch?"

Colin smiled.

Good. At least Bradley would be able to concentrate this morning.

~***~

They never made it to lunch. They made it as far as Colin's trailer, where they struggled out of their costumes as fast as humanly possible, both came twice, and then spent the remainder of their break trying to find some semblance of coherence in order to make it through the rest of the day.

~***~

Colin hesitated in front of Bradley's hotel room door for half a minute before knocking. He'd never even thought about waiting before barging in before.

A confused-looking Bradley opened the door. "Why d'you knock?"

Colin shrugged. "Tried to be polite for once?"

"Really." Bradley muted the TV--football, Colin absently noticed--and stretched out on the bed.

Colin lingered by the bathroom door.

"Aren't you sitting down?" Bradley asked. A frown formed on his face. "This isn't going to be weird now, is it? Because of--you know."

Fucking fantastic, exactly what Colin had hoped to avoid. "'Course not." He made himself comfortable next to Bradley.

"Good. Feel like watching more Buffy?"

"Bradley--"

"Oh, no, please don't tell me we have to have a talk." Bradley rubbed his hand over his eyes. "And here I thought that since we're both, you know, not girls..."

"Want me to leave?" It wasn't as if Colin wanted to have a drawn-out analysis of their feelings for each other, but some basic agreement might be helpful if this was supposed to go anywhere other than some rushed fumbling here and there. And as much fun as that was, Colin rather wanted a bit more out of it.

Bradley sighed. "No."

They lapsed into silence. Bradley turned off the TV and picked up his mobile while Colin stared up at the ceiling, trying to come up with a way of talking without talking too much.

"Look," Colin started.

"Yeah?" Bradley's eyes were firmly on the screen of his mobile.

"Would you mind putting that away for five fucking seconds?"

Chastised, Bradley threw his phone onto the bedside table. "I'm all ears."

This evening really wasn't going as Colin had pictured it earlier. "Look," he started again. First things first. "Was that all right this morning? In the van?"

Bradley had an inscrutable look on his face. "If you mean your terrible Kate Nash impression, I could have done without that. But..." He paused. "Aside from Marion Caraway accidentally brushing against me in Year 10, no one's ever got me so close to coming in my jeans that fast as you did this morning."

Colin snorted. "Well, I suppose that's flattering."

"Oh, it is. She was fucking gorgeous." Bradley seemed lost in some very cherished memories.

Colin stared up at the telly mounted on the wall and wondered if the same kind of glare appeared on it that always reflected back into Colin's eyes when he tried to read on his bed in the late afternoon. Bradley shifted next to him, the mattress creaking with his movements.

"Are we being really stupid here?" Colin ventured.

Bradley searched his eyes. "Rather." He tugged on the edge of Colin's T-shirt until they were lying next to each other. "We could have been doing this five minutes ago."

Colin's laugh was muffled by Bradley's lips, and he gladly allowed Bradley push him onto his back.

~***~

They ended up watching All About My Mother, which Colin had been pestering Bradley about for the past two weeks or so. Bradley actually enjoyed the film, but loudly criticized everything regardless, remarking on the shoddy directing, the horrible set design, and the unbearable soundtrack. Colin took it in stride, but probably hashed out a plan of how exactly to ruin Bradley's love of Buffy, which was an impossible task, but he wasn't about to tell Colin that.

He was mostly glad they'd managed to avoid the near-catastrophe of "having to talk." The constant need to discuss their feelings had brought down his last relationship, and he feared he'd developed an allergic reaction to the phrase alone. It wasn't even so much the concept--he was quite capable of rendering emotions into words on occasion--but any kind of scheduled baring of souls grated on him.

Somehow, Colin ended up sprawled half on top of Bradley by the end of the film, and seemed rather unwilling to move.

He responded to Bradley's increasing nudges with a yawn and a mumbled, "'m staying here tonight, okay?"

And that was that. They stripped down to boxers and T-shirts and more or less successfully arranged their limbs in Bradley's too-small-bed. It was all a bit odd to fall asleep with someone Bradley hadn't shagged before, but that was Colin for you. Always doing the unexpected.

~***~

Colin wondered how long it would take until Bradley woke up. So far, only his shoulder had twitched. Next, Colin brought his nails into play when he tapped his fingers across Bradley's bare back. At some point during the night Bradley must have taken his T-shirt off--it was rather muggy--and Colin found the expanse of skin in front of him irresistible.

Bradley grunted and twisted, as if he was trying to displace an imaginary insect.

Stifling a laugh, Colin drew circles down Bradley's spine.

This time, Bradley flailed and batted at the unknown assailant. When Colin burst out laughing, Bradley blinked sleepily at him, and then flopped back down onto the bed. "Twat."

"Sorry."

"You're not sorry at all," Bradley mumbled, face buried in his pillow.

Colin wound his fingers into the hair at Bradley's nape, which was twisting in little curls again. He brushed over them with his palm, uncovering warm skin beneath. A hint of salt swept across Colin's tongue when he mouthed over that patch of skin, and Bradley squirmed in the most surprisingly delightful way.

"Stop! Stop that!" Bradley swatted at him, but Colin ducked out of his reach. "Were you just licking my neck?"

"Yes," Colin replied, and nuzzled along the top of Bradley's shoulder.

Turning onto his back, Bradley said, "You are so strange."

Having been dislodged by the swift motion, Colin tucked himself back against Bradley's side. "Is that good or bad?"

Bradley smiled. "Haven't decided yet."

Colin kissed that smile--and perhaps also the pretense of uncertainty--off Bradley's face. Hands roamed over Colin's back, drawing him closer. This was Colin's favourite kind of kiss; leisurely, without any goal, merely a way to connect.

Bradley remained quiet when they moved apart, for which Colin was grateful. It allowed him to study the sleep-worn crinkles around Bradley's eyes, the swoop of his nose, and the slightly parted lips.

"Good morning," Colin said.

"Morning," Bradley's thumb teased under the elastic of Colin's boxers, skimming the top of his arse.

Two can play this game, Colin thought. And one of us won't play fair. He pushed his hand into Bradley's pants. Hard, fast strokes worked best on Bradley, he'd discovered. It took less than ten to have him completely hard and sprawled over the sheets. Colin kissed the corner of his mouth, cataloguing each hitch of breath and the corresponding movement of his hand. When Bradley's eyelids fluttered shut, Colin knew he was nearly there. A sharp tug and twist was all it took to make Bradley arch and come over Colin's fingers.

"Fucking hell," Bradley panted. His eyes remained closed.

Colin laughed. "Cheers." He rolled over the edge of the bed and stood up. "I'll take a shower while your brain tries come back online, is that all right?"

Bradley waved his hand around, which Colin took as a "yes."

~***~

Were there any bones left in his body? Bradley wasn't entirely sure. Fuck. That had only been Colin's hand. Not even his mouth, or--well. He hadn't had it that bad for someone since his first year at DC, and that had led to a very strange moment on stage when he'd completely blanked out on his lines for about a minute. Something similar was not an option this time around. He had to focus. Arthur, crown prince of Camelot, good at sword fighting and commanding respect from his manservant, who he most definitely did not want to shag. Or did he?

A knock on the door interrupted that train wreck of a thought. Bradley stumbled out of bed, kicking off his boxers because there was no way he could open the door in their current state. The knock came again, sharper this time.

"One moment!" he called out. He picked a pair of track bottoms off the floor and struggled into them.

"I just wanted to know if--" came Angel's voice through the door.

Bradley opened the door. "Yeah?"

"If you've seen Colin. He was supposed to be downstairs ten minutes ago, and I don't think he's in his room."

Oh shit. "Colin, eh? Um, Colin is--"

As luck would have it, Colin chose that precise moment to open the bathroom door. "Hey, where d'you keep--" He trailed off, eyes widening at the sight of Angel in the door.

Angel did her best trying to pretend she hadn't seen a very naked Colin before he hastened back into the bathroom and closed the door firmly behind him.

"Colin is in my bathroom," Bradley finished lamely. "His, er, shower would only turn on cold this morning so he came over."

Still staring at some undefined point on the wall in the hall, Angel replied. "Well, could you please tell him that we're waiting for him?"

"Will do."

"Thanks." With a last curious glance, Angel left.

Bradley leaned his forehead against the door after closing it. Brilliant. Absolutely fucking brilliant.

~***~

Bradley's faint hope of having come up with a very plausible excuse for why Colin was in his shower at six o'clock in the morning was dashed when Angel walked past him on her way to the catering truck, singing I just want your kiss, boyyyy, kiss boyyyy under her breath.

~***~

If Bradley had a problem with their developing habit of ending up in each other's beds, he didn't say. Colin suspected it was the morning blowjobs that made Bradley agreeable to the arrangement. While Colin had assumed that Bradley was rather vocal in bed--he couldn't shut up the rest of the time, either, after all--the sounds that he made were utterly addictive. They also made it much more difficult to hold them back from moving on to shagging each other's brains out, but Colin felt a lingering hesitancy in Bradley where that was concerned. He wouldn't have said no to Bradley fucking him, but whenever they'd come close to that--for example when Colin had encouraged Bradley's questing fingers--Bradley had drawn back. Not that Colin minded that much because Bradley's tongue and hands were doing marvellous and rather inventive things to him.

They'd also managed to avoid any further run-ins with fellow cast members at badly timed moments.

Until the fire drill, at least.

It was three o'clock in the morning, and Colin and Bradley stumbled out of Colin's room, bleary-eyed like everyone else, finding their way downstairs and into the courtyard while being half-asleep still. The siren was blaring on as they waited in the chilly night air. Colin was absolutely freezing in his thin T-shirt and flimsy cotton pyjama bottoms. Rubbing his hands down his arms and jumping on the spot didn't help much, and he only felt marginally warmer when Bradley's hand settled on his lower back.

"Thanks," Colin mumbled. When he looked up, he met Katie's eyes. She was looking at him and Bradley with a rather calculating gaze and Colin knew then and there that the cat was out of the bag.

"Ah, fucking hell," Bradley muttered next to him. Apparently, he'd noticed Katie looking over as well. But he didn't move his hand.

Katie was whispering with Angel, who was absolutely pants at sneaking unobtrusive glances in their direction.

"D'you mind?" Colin asked.

Bradley yawned. "Mind what?"

"That Katie's apparently got us figured out."

When Bradley didn't respond right away, Colin added, "She's not going to tell. Well, aside from Angel, obviously."

"You think she won't?" Bradley sounded surprised.

"Nah. Katie's not like that." Call it instinct, but Colin was certain Katie wouldn't go around and talk about something that was rather delicate information.

"Yeah, she probably wants to keep it to herself so she can make those little remarks of hers and we can't properly tell her off for it."

Colin laughed. "Oh, we'll never hear the end of it."

As if on cue, giggling rang out over the courtyard. Bradley gave Katie the finger and received several rude gestures in return, which didn't surprise Colin in the least.

When the fire brigade had finally come and gone, they made their way back up to their rooms. Katie was about to disappear into hers when she called out, "Nice catch, Colin."

Colin opened his mouth to reply, but Bradley beat him to it. "You're just jealous, Katie," he said and took Colin by the hand to drag him back to his room.

Catcalls by Angel, and by what disturbingly sounded like Anthony, followed them inside. Colin leaned back against the door. He gave Bradley's hand a tug. "What now?"

"Now we're going back to bed," Bradley replied.

Colin rolled his eyes. "That's not what I meant."

Bradley shrugged. "It would've come out sooner or later, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah. I suppose," Colin replied slowly.

"Right then." Bradley let go of Colin's hand and made his way over to the bed.

Colin couldn't quite figure out if Bradley didn't care that rumours might spread all over the set because he didn't mind that people thought he was shagging his co-star or because it was too late to do anything about it.

It took a long time for him to fall asleep that night.

~***~

Over the next week, it became clear that the inner circle of the cast--Katie, Angel, Tony, and Richard--definitely knew about about them, but also didn't seem to care. Well, the occasional double entendre aside.

Bradley was relieved; not because he wouldn't want anyone to know that he and Colin were, well, something, but because they were still figuring this out and Bradley preferred to do that without having to deal with an incessant stream of whispering behind his back. It was bad enough that Stuart had praised him loudly for his passionate performance yesterday and had encouraged everyone else to take cues from the intensity coming through in Colin's and Bradley's scenes. Colin had accepted the compliment in his usual collected and humble manner, which had left Bradley to feel heat creep into his cheeks. He'd made Colin blow him in one of Pierrefonds' unused rooms for that because it was only fair. Colin, utter bastard that he was, hadn't only enjoyed that, but had kept licking his lips in the most perverted manner during all of Bradley's takes for the rest of the afternoon.

~***~

It was one of those days during which one hour bled into the next because there was nothing to do. Bradley was bored with everything. He was sick of watching the telly in French and of going round to the shops, and he certainly wasn't going to be on set on his day off, even if Colin had to be there for half of the day. Eventually, Bradley succumbed to a nap.

Colin came in at some point, trying and failing to be quiet. The degree of happiness caused by hearing Colin move about the room was frightening while at the same time absolutely thrilling. The mattress dipped, and then Colin was there, warm against Bradley's back. Bradley reached for his hand and kissed his wrist before tucking it against his chest. Colin's breath was warm against the side of his neck, and suddenly Bradley understood what Colin had meant about trust a few weeks ago; it was this, this doing without thinking.

He must have stirred because Colin asked, "What?"

Bradley didn't answer. Instead, he reached for the bedside table, rummaging through its drawer for lube and condoms, which he pressed into Colin's hand.

"Really?" Colin whispered. He seemed startled.

"Yeah." A deep calm settled over Bradley. This was Colin; it would be fine. They'd be fine.

~***~

It felt strange. Bradley hadn't expected this to feel so--scattered. Too many sensory impressions colliding without forming a coherent picture. Colin's hand on his thigh, five points of pressure digging into muscle. The slide of skin against skin, Colin's front to his back. The body he'd always felt rather comfortable in seemed unfamiliar to Bradley now; he didn't know how to move along with Colin, how to respond to Colin pushing into him again and again. It seemed relentless even though Bradley also knew Colin was pacing himself and trying to go slow for Bradley's sake, but it still felt far too fast. There were noises coming out of his throat, twisted, choked sounds that didn't sound like him, mingling with the harsh breaths pushing out of Colin's mouth and rolling over Bradley's neck.

Bradley twisted his fingers into the sheet and tried to hold on as best as he could.

~***~

Shudders wrecked their way through Colin when he came, his heart tripping over itself. Oxygen was in too short a supply, and he was still catching his breath when Bradley's hand pushed back against his hip, pushing him away. Not very forcefully, but pointedly enough. Colin made quick work of the condom, tying a haphazard knot and flinging it into the direction of the bin, more concerned about Bradley's state of mind than the hotel staff's assumptions.

Bradley was still on his side. Colin curled a hand around his shoulder and urged him onto his back. Bradley's eyes darted here and there, careful to avoid Colin's face. He looked lost. Colin remembered what this felt like; handing yourself over and not being entirely prepared for surrendering control. If he'd known how to tell Bradley what to expect, he would have. But there weren't really any words for this strange rendering apart. He knew Bradley was trying to put those scattered parts of himself back together again. It would take a few times until he'd discover the pleasure in allowing yourself to fall apart like this, until he'd learn how you could come to crave it with the right person.

Colin pushed Bradley's fringe away from his face. "Still there?"

"Yeah." The distance in Bradley's voice belied that affirmation.

"Feels strange, doesn't it?" Colin lowered his voice, almost whispering.

A choked laugh preceded Bradley's cautious, "Fucking weird."

"Any regrets?" Colin was almost afraid to ask.

Bradley met Colin's eyes for the first time that afternoon. "No."

"I promise it'll stop feeling weird."

"It better. This isn't the bloody fantastic sex I'm allegedly missing out on." Bradley's hand trailed up and down Colin's back.

Bradley saying more than two words at a time was reassuring. "Not yet, it isn't." Colin kissed the side of his neck. "But it will."

Bradley's breath quickened. "Very bloody sure of yourself, aren't you?"

"Yes."

~***~

Bradley had always been a big believer in getting back onto the proverbial horse right after falling off. He was also rather impatient. When it came to sex with Colin, those two impulses were on a rather unpredictable collision course. Colin didn't seem to mind being cornered at all hours, on and off the set, but he didn't handle Bradley's increasing frustration all that well. He was rather more patient than Bradley would have been had their roles been reversed, but there was a limit, even for Colin.

Apparently that point had been reached after another afternoon tumble that left them somewhat sated, but not entirely satisfied.

"You can't rush this," Colin pointed out tiredly.

"I know." Bradley was aware of how petulant he sounded.

"Then why--never mind." Colin got out of bed and started to get dressed.

Bradley sat up. "Because it's never been this difficult before! It's driving me fucking mad."

Colin tensed for a moment, and Bradley thought he could see a flare of anger in his eyes. "I'm not going to fight with you over this." Colin rounded the bed and kissed Bradley's cheek. "I'll be down by the pool."

"No going in the sun, now." The words slipped past Bradley's lips out of habit but lacked their usual playfulness.

Nevertheless, Colin smiled. "Katie's borrowed"--he made air quotes around that word--"one of the big umbrellas from the set, so we'll remain properly pasty." Colin's fingers skimmed over Bradley's jaw before he stood up.

Bradley flopped back onto the bed after the door shut behind Colin, thoughts going round in circles once again. A quarter of an hour later, he gave himself a kick in the arse for being such a girl and took a shower. Meandering down the stairs towards the lobby without a clear goal in mind, he ran into Tony, who seemed similarly listless. They decided dinner with indecent amounts of red wine were the solution to their late summer ennui, which turned out to be the best decision Bradley had made in days.

~***~

August announced itself with a round of thunderstorms. The wind drove rain against the balcony doors and thunder rumbled in the distance. Colin was absorbed in On Chesil Beach, but not too absorbed to sneak the occasional glance at Bradley, who was reading through the script of the final episode of the series. Bradley caught Colin's gaze one of those times, and held it. Colin let his book slip out of his hand. Bradley carefully placed the script on the floor. He crawled across the bed and slowly pushed Colin onto his back.

Everything after that was a blur of discarded clothes and of scrabbling hands, a rush of "come on" and "hurry up" and "like that." Bradley kept Colin's wrists pinned to the bed, moving above him, thighs a tight frame around Colin's hips.

Colin knew exactly when everything shifted for Bradley: his breath stuttered and he stilled, a choked "oh god" slipping past his lips. His fingernails dug painfully into Colin's skin, but he urged Bradley on nevertheless. Bradley kissed him with abandon, the rise and fall of his hips pressing Colin down into the mattress. When Bradley's fingers went lax around his wrists, Colin slipped his hands out of their lose grasp. Wrapping his arms around Bradley's back, he pushed up experimentally.

Bradley's breath hitched and his forehead dropped onto Colin's shoulder. "Again," he urged.

They found point and counterpoint, a fast rhythm that forged discords into harmony. Colin stopped thinking and let himself go, finally certain he could pull Bradley along with him.

~***~

Afterwards, they remained silent for a long time. Neither of them moved very much, either. In fact, Bradley would have been content to stay there for as long as possible, lying half on top of Colin with one arm flung around his middle, their sides pressing comfortably against one another.

Eventually, Bradley did move a little farther away, but only because he wanted to see Colin's face. The unguarded adoration Bradley saw in his eyes scared the shit out of him, even if he was certain he smiled back at Colin in an equally dopey way.

Colin burst out laughing, which was a convenient excuse to slap him across the thigh. The retaliation came in the form of a sharp kick to Bradley's shin, and with that, they were back on much more familiar territory.

And yet, something had slotted into place that had been up in the air before.

~***~

 

"Uh-oh." Bradley's fork hovered half-way to his mouth as he looked at something over Colin's shoulder.

"What?" Colin turned around, and saw Katie coming towards them. Her smirk did not bode well.

She set down her plate of spaghetti next to Colin's bowl of soup and pulled out a chair to sit down. "Colin. Bradley. How are you this fine, fine Monday?"

Colin and Bradley exchanged a look.

"Good," Bradley replied cautiously. "And you?"

"Fantastic." She expertly twirled a few spaghetti around her fork. "Say, Colin, have you looked at Bradley's Facebook recently?"

Colin noticed how Bradley's eyes widened a fraction. Turning towards Katie, he replied, "No, why?"

"Well, I just happened to notice that he's changed his relationship status."

"Having fun cyber-stalking your co-stars, McGrath?" Bradley interjected.

With an air of innocence, Katie countered, "I merely like to keep informed."

"So, what's it say now?" Colin interrupted. "Bradley's Facebook?"

"It says--" Katie paused dramatically. "That he's in a relationship."

A deep flush stole up Bradley's neck and he studiously looked down on his plate of chicken and peas.

"For serious?" Colin asked.

"Saw it with my own eyes." Katie's grin turned into a genuine smile.

Colin kicked Bradley under the table. "Anything to add?"

Bradley glanced up. "No."

"Arse."

Bradley unsuccessfully tried to hide his smile by gulping down half a bottle of water.

"Oh, there's Angel. I should go and ask her about this scene we're doing later." Katie gathered up her plate and cutlery. "Have fun." She winked at Colin and pushed her way through the crowded tables to reach the other side of the room, where Angel was sitting down.

Colin stirred his soup. "You knew she'd find out."

"Maybe." Bradley finally allowed that smile to emerge in full.

Colin shook his head. "Subtle, James, very subtle."

Bradley shrugged, but that smile stayed on his face all the way through lunch.

~***~

As Bradley was finished with his scenes earlier than anyone else--by which he meant Colin, really--he decided to film a bit more for the video diaries. He managed to catch Katie frowning and gesturing while mouthing along to her iPod, looking very serious and distraught. Bradley knew she was filming Morgana's confrontation with Uther that afternoon, but her efforts to get into the right mood were unintentionally hilarious, and consequently had to be captured on video.

Bradley finally found Colin outside the castle walls later in the evening. He had no qualms interrupting whatever conversation Colin was having, and Colin didn't seem to mind too much, either. Bradley asked a series of questions--about catering, and about the scenes Colin was doing for episode nine--that hopefully sounded coherent. He didn't really know what was coming out of his mouth because Colin kept sneaking those glances at him over the top of the camera and kept smiling at him in a way that Bradley had only seen in very different, and much more private, circumstances.

Colin had just explained that the Black Knight was going to BURN, laughing at himself and the world at large when Bradley shut off the camera.

"What, you didn't think that was funny?" Colin asked.

"You always think your jokes are funnier than they actually are," Bradley replied dryly.

Colin took a step closer to him. "Is that right, now?"

"Yes." Bradley looked past Colin's shoulder. "You need to stop looking at me like that."

Colin shifted into Bradley's line of sight. He still had that look on his face. "Like what?"

"Like..." Bradley gestured unsuccessfully. "Like you're about half a second away from snogging me in front of everyone."

Colin took another step closer. "Maybe I am."

Bradley's throat felt very, very dry. "You wouldn't."

There was mischief in Colin's eyes as he leaned in.

And snagged the camera away from Bradley, running off towards the castle.

"You absolute fucker, Morgan!" Bradley set off after Colin at a much slower place, once again cursing Arthur's fifteen-layer outfits.

~***~

Colin stumbled up dark stairs in one of Pierrefonds' turrets, falling over his feet but laughing nevertheless, allowing himself to be pulled farther along by Bradley, who appeared to be on much surer footing on the winding steps. Just when Colin thought his lungs might explode, Bradley pushed them through a door and out onto a narrow ledge high up above the castle. Colin barely had time to catch his breath when Bradley pressed him back against the sloping roof, kissing him until they were both lightheaded.

They fell back against the tiles, one next to the other, looking up into the starlit sky. Voices and music from the party below seemed far away, a cacophony dispersed by wind and silence.

"If you just wanted a snog, there are about half a dozen rooms on the first floor alone." Colin pointedly looked at Bradley.

"I like it up here. Best place to get away. Seems like no one else has found it yet."

"Well, no one else is daft enough to brave those stairs." Colin sidled closer until he could rest his head against Bradley's shoulder. "Know any constellations?"

Bradley turned a bit, fitting himself more comfortably against Colin's side. "Not a clue, sorry."

"Well, that's not very romantic." Colin threw in a pout for good measure, even if Bradley probably couldn't see it in the darkness.

"Oh, sorry, Colin, I didn't know you were the roses-and-chocolate type."

"I'm allergic to chocolate, actually."

Bradley snorted. "Of course you are."

They fell silent; Bradley wiggled his arm out from between them and wrapped it around Colin's shoulders. It was remarkably comfortable, all in all, considering they were half-leaning against sheets of slate.

"You've any plans for after?" Bradley asked.

They had three weeks left in France, something they hadn't really talked about. "'m going to visit my family first," Colin replied. "Then back to London, I suppose. My agent has a few auditions lined up."

"Yeah?" Bradley asked.

"Hmm. What about you? Don't you live up around Old Street somewhere?"

Bradley's fingers wandered underneath the collar of Colin's shirt, tracing along his neck. "With two of my mates, yeah. But I've been thinking of looking for something of my own. Round Bankside, maybe. Be nice to be on the river."

"Bankside's not bad." Colin knew they were dancing around that vague thing called 'the future,' or maybe 'their future,' and it did funny things to his stomach, as if they were going down in a lift too quickly.

Bradley didn't respond, but his fingers continued their idle patterns.

"So I'll see you then, back in London?" Colin aimed for casual, but the hitch in his voice rather betrayed that.

Bradley stilled. "Of course you will. I mean--you didn't think this was--this was just--"

"No. It's..." Colin was loathe to put it--them--into words.

"Like this?" Bradley whispered right before he kissed Colin, fast and possessive and without room for doubt.

"Yeah," Colin murmured against Bradley's lips, "Just like that."

 

the end.

 

(Read the sequel: A Jump and a Climb, also available on the AO3)


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